


wolf + fawn

by whitechapelcharlie



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, a place for dread wolf doggy style jokes, my oc is feral, please read the notes, pre-Arlathan batshittery, that's not what pearls are for, there's sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 16:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18595411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitechapelcharlie/pseuds/whitechapelcharlie
Summary: Fen'harel's efforts to organise an efficient rebellion are being thrown into chaos by an opportunistic bunch of forest-dwelling Arlathan runaways. Setting themselves up almost as a rival to his more militaristic approach, they've been poaching his recruits, stealing his supplies and generally mischiefing him to drink in between, he assumes, hugging trees. What was supposed to be a final stab at making contact with their well-meaning leader in person turns into something else entirely. He was always much too curious for his own good.Bit of a deliberately disjointed overview/summary of the build up to my mutually supportive, intensely In Love Solas/OC pairing I like to call "The Real Guillotine Hours Squad".





	wolf + fawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time uploading anything to AO3; in fact, it's my first time showing this stuff to anyone besides my girlfriend, and I am, for want of a better phrase, shitting bricks. I'm a whole ass anxiety sufferer and I can't feel my fingers right now, so please bear with me while I overexplain myself out of nerves:
> 
> My Fen'harel is all my own interpretation, my own embellishment, all that stuff. I like to push him, not all the way past realistic, but right up to the edges of canon. He's impulsive, kind of dumb in some ways (though of course still terrifyingly smart in most others), collected and well spoken but possessed of a hell of a temper. He's intense and doesn't let everyone in as close as Mae gets. Their relationship is very closed and private for the most part; the behaviour you're about to see is between them and isn't supposed to be something other characters would bear witness to.
> 
> My "world state" for DA fic is shared with my girlfriend and defaults to her Antivan Inquisitor - my "Lavellan" is not a real Lavellan at all. She introduces herself as Dalish, having lived a similar vibe before the "modern" Dalish clans formed, but she doesn't really count at all. Her faction was a precursor to the Dalish lifestyle and not much of it remains. This is partly why Solas is so disgusted by them, eheheh.  
> I hope it's not too arduous and that it entertains someone!

** Wilds — Clan Lavellan  **

 

 _Find her. Not her group,_ **_her_ ** _._

 

 It was easier said than done. They had lost six more recruits since then; all had been on their way from the city, and all had been intercepted and absorbed along the way by this...  _clan_ . Scouts had been tracking this strange group of nomadic misfits, but they never seemed to lead back to any specific person. As far as he could work out, _there was no chain of command at all_ . There were, however, patterns in the clan’s movements. They performed coordinated defences and well executed evasive manoeuvres that seemed to come from nowhere, as if they were _starlings_ , not elves. Whoever this _Halla-Mother_ was, she had a lot to answer for. She’d disrupted too many plans now, risked too many lives. And, frankly, stolen the results of _his_ forward thinking once too often.

 

 Heads turned and wary glances were cast over him and his companions as they entered the camp. They knew who he was. If they hadn’t known, he wouldn’t have made it past the invisible border that marked the edge of their territory. An uneasy understanding hung in the air. Regardless of their _philosophical differences_ , he was on their side.

 

 “Who is in charge here?” Solas asked directly of the nearest group of elves, busy by a fire, some preparing vegetables, others scrubbing pots.

 

 None of them answered, though he saw one cast a withering glance upward at him. Looking back to his companions, he shook his head.

 

 The three of them continued walking through the forest clearing, conscious of the spectacle they were making of themselves in comparatively _showy_ armour. Hair over one shoulder, dressed in dark fabrics and fur, a fragment of bone around his neck, he, especially, stood out in defiance against the careful, camouflaging colours around him.

 

 “There.” Solas tilted his head forward, indicating a seat that was sinking into the ground on one side. Beautifully carved and clearly intended as some kind of throne, it had been left untreated to rot by an oak tree.

 

 “What about it?”

 

 A young woman approached their group from behind, pulling a pair of gloves off as she reached them and giving each of them an openly judgmental once-over. Small and slight, her silver-blonde hair was braided in parts and loose in others, tangled where a small twig had gotten stuck in its ends. Her face was marked with the twisting, vine-like brand of Ghilan’nain. Her almost yellow eyes held his easily as she tilted her head in curiosity and amusement. A huntress, he guessed, judging by her build, her clothing and the scar like a scratch beneath her right eye.

 

 “Who sits there?” Solas asked.

 

 “It’s a chair. Anyone does.” she replied, pleased with her own _cleverness_.

 

 He couldn’t help but smile. An obvious, clunky but still somehow still poignant metaphor. Her pride in it was immediately endearing. “... _Understood_. We came looking for the woman you call _Halla-Mother_ , it’s — somewhat urgent.”

 

 “She doesn’t work to anyone else’s schedule.”

 

 “I—”

 

 “I know who you are, _Fen’harel_.” she cut him off. After another glance, another weighing up of his worth, she sighed. “Let me give you the tour while you’re waiting. I hear you’ve got no idea about most anything.”

 

 “That’s— … alright. Lead.”

 

 Judging by her expression, that was the right answer. It wouldn't do to clash with them already. Better to keep the peace. But he hardly had the patience to play the game, at first; their position was poor, their lifestyle unnecessarily difficult and their general demeanour seemed to suggest that they’d escaped slavery only to find a different kind of misery. His guide explained everything she could, in as much detail as she knew. There was real passion in her voice, a fervent love of her community that caught his interest. _Their difficulty was their choice?_  The stone of Arlathan felt unnatural to them, she said, as he found himself absorbed in the foreignness of the idea. To reject the lives of nobles was to create something new, something for themselves, in synergy with the world around them, not in spite of it. She led him further from the main camp and showed him the plants they lived off and security measures they set. Eventually, finding their leader became secondary to understanding them; and as soon as he realised it, he also realised the trap he’d fallen into.

 

 She trailed off, mid-sentence, as she saw it dawn in his eyes.

 

 “ _You’re her_.”

 

 She grinned, finger twining around a lock of her hair as he stared back at her. “And you’re all alone.”

 

 He turned. The men he’d brought with him — where — ?

 

 “They’re alright,” she sighed, “Just got turned around. I’ll bet Elara has ‘em waiting for you by the fire. Gets really _busy_ around here. Easy to get split from your friends.”

 

 “Is this supposed to be some kind of _threat?_ ” he said, an eyebrow raised.

 

 “I don’t _threaten_ , Wolf.” she replied. Her tone hardened and she moved forward until she stood right in front of him, staring up with a defiant look in her eyes and a sneer twisting her lips. “We’re gonna carry on doing just what we wanna do, and you’re gonna stay out of it. Got it? This was just a little show. I can cut you off once, I can do it again. I could have killed you six times already.”

 

 He didn’t give her an inch; he planted his staff into the ground at his side, but she didn’t back off either.

 

 “You’re destroying _months_ of work every time you interfere with us.”

 

 “So?”

 

 “We should be working _together_ , our aims are—”

 

 “Nah-ah. We stay independent. We know all about your fortress in the valley, and it sounds like a nice way to say _estate_ to us.”

 

 She was infuriating, she showed _no_ understanding of her actions, she —

 

 “You mean to say you’re refusing _my_ help _and_ you’re choosing to work _against_ me?” he frowned.

 

 “You sound shocked. Not used to it?” she teased.

 

 So, that’s how she wanted to play it? Fine. He laughed, not entirely in humour, and leaned forward as he replied. “ _Halla are easy prey._ ”

 

 She gave him a pitying sigh and a wide-eyed stare back. “And yet _I’m_ the one with the bow. I’m not _scared_ of you. Wolves are just _puppies_ at heart.”

 

 His frustration threatened to spill over, but he was saved by the return of his escort. Their voices called through the trees, and the halla-girl’s face brightened.

 

 “For what it’s worth, you do good work. Just keep it away from me and we’ll be just fine.”

 

* * *

  


**Arlathan Outskirts — Valley**

 

 She came escorted by a small crew of her own people. Outfitted in leather and fur, she wore a small set of halla‘s horns on a gold band that was fixed in twists of her hair. A show meant to mock him, to overplay the image of a leader, but her sense of humour was welcome; especially in the face of such loss. He hadn’t been expecting her to give in so quickly to his latest, far more urgent, offer for help, but perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised. She’d held out for such a long time, struggled, clinging to her camp as battles were lost around her, ground swallowed up by their enemies. It had been hard for his own people, too. She placed herself below the needs of her clan, so it was no _real_ hardship to accept his help, no matter how insistent she'd been before that she didn't need it. It was only a loss of face for her at all in the sense that she couldn’t stand his infuriating smirk; and by now he knew it.

 

***

 

 

 “I can remove those markings.” he said, breaking the library's silence with a gentle half-murmur.

 

 “I know. I’ll let you. Once this is over. Maybe.”

 

 “Why not now?”

 

 “I don’t want anyone to forget where I came from.”

 

  
  
  
***

 

 He stood over a stone table, frowning slightly as he focused on the drawn and redrawn lines on the maps under his hands. Across the room, Halla shuffled through pages of her peoples’ reports. She’d stopped dressing for the woods, favouring her shirt and dark leathers instead, though it had taken her months to concede that silent battle. Her hair was tied back, high and out of her face. It always struck him that she looked tidier, more _mature_ like that. It didn't quite suit her. Often, it meant she was worn out, but today she was restless. As he watched her, he saw her expression change from one of distant concentration to one of sudden vitality. He glanced down again before she could catch him looking.

 

 “What’s your real name?”

 

 He looked up. “My name?”

 

 “Yeah. You know. It isn’t _Dread Wolf_. What’s your proper name? Won’t hurt to tell me, will it? Everyone knows you’re you already.”

 

 He shrugged, turning his attention back to the map. “It’s Solas.”

 

 Halla fell silent for a moment. “But… but that’s _beautiful!_ Why wouldn’t you use that, why wouldn’t you go by it!?”

 

 “Why wouldn’t I…? Why _would_ I?” he asked, a puzzled smile accompanying his words. He hadn't chosen his new title himself, but -- did it _matter_ , one way or another?

 

 “It’s a word for _pride!_ ”

 

 “And you don’t think that might be off putting? Or a convenient tool to undermine me, in the wrong mouth?” he laughed, shaking his head. 

 

 She paced back and forth once or twice, then stood next to him, her hand over the corner of his map.

 

 “Well, I — I suppose, if you — but it doesn’t have to mean that, you could interpret it as a, as a _thing of pride_ , like _you_ , you are — you’re the pride of our people, aren’t you?”

 

 That… wasn’t something he’d really thought of. He'd never felt one way or another about what he was called, so long as his message was clear. Halla seemed enlivened by the subject, though, and it was _this_ that he found himself paying attention to now. How she seemed to light up, given _anything_ that might inspire her followers, how her dedication made her _blinding_. She noticed him staring and looked away, face colouring. Wandering away again, she laid her hands on her stack of reports and stared out the window.

 

 “... What’s yours?”

 

 She threw a roll of her eyes back over her shoulder. “Mine’s awful. My mama likes… old names, _traditional_ ones, I don’t know what it means.”

 

 “Well? What is it?”

 

  _Sigh_ . “It’s — _Maeve_ . It’s so bad, I just use _Mae—_ ”

 

 “Oh… oh, no, I _like_ that…”

 

 She turned and found he’d come to stand behind her while she’d been trying to feign nonchalance; he studied her face and she tried to avoid his eye as she found herself caught between him and the writing desk.

 

 “You’re right, it’s old, it’s the name of a fictional warrior queen. It can also mean bringer of joy, or… a slightly different but equally accurate reading…”

 

 His hand came up to touch her face, fingers tracing her jaw, and she held her breath. She knew he’d see her staring but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She leaned back, her hands on the edge of the desk to support her, and felt his dark hair brush her shoulder as he followed.

 

 “... could be… _she who intoxicates_ …”

 

 Her eyes closed a moment too long as she felt his breath on her lips. Their eyes locked; Halla’s arms reached forward and pulled him into a messy, breathless, heated kiss. He immediately lifted her onto the desk and pulled her hips forward, causing her to gasp into him and dig her fingers into his skin.

 

 “Ah- _ahem_.”

 

 They froze.

 

 “My apologies, Lady Halla… your scouts have returned from th… from the…”

 

 They hadn’t yet managed to tear their eyes from one another. She was listening, she _was_ , but as the messenger spoke to her, she couldn’t help leaning up to him and softly kissing just the corner of his mouth, letting the tip of her tongue taste his lips as he tried to catch her.

 

 “We’ll continue this conversation later.” she said.

 

 She slipped out from under him and disappeared toward the door, leaving him wide eyed and silently _desperate_ as he leaned with one hand on the desk.

  
  


***

 

 She heard him approach. Her window overlooked the valley and she didn’t turn from it as he drew near. His arms wrapped around her waist and she felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to her head.

 

 “ _Solas_.”

 

 “ _Ah?_ First name terms now?” he asked, quietly teasing.

 

 “I should hope you wouldn’t put your tongue in a girl’s mouth before that,” she replied, a laugh hidden in her disapproval.

 

 “I — did no such thing!”

 

 Halla turned to face him, letting him pull her in closer as she did, her hands on his shoulders. Looking up at him, she bit her lip and blinked in a show of innocence.

 

 “Can you?”

 

 He laughed, and found a split second to marvel at how good it felt to do that. Before her, it seemed a _betrayal_ of some kind to spend even a moment in a way that didn’t serve the cause. But this couldn’t be called a waste of time. She was his partner, he couldn’t work without her — and if she bit him once more, he would be thoroughly convinced that he couldn’t _live_ without her either —

 

 “Wait, wait…” she whispered, pulling herself away. “I’m… I’m still worried about the clan, I know, I’m _sorry_ , I _can’t think of anything else_ —”

 

 “I have it.” he replied, his thumb running over her lips. “Join with us. Properly. Not as part of our army, as your own. We will take the vulnerable, the children, into the valley — the others will use the skills you taught them to act as—”

 

 “ _Spies!_ ”

 

 “ _Yes!_ They’ll have no need to get close to combat—”

 

 “And those here?”

 

 “Will show my people how they lived self sufficiently.”

 

 “But they won’t act under your banner.”

 

 “Never. Your independence means much to me, now that I’ve seen it, and seen how it can be helpful. To all of us.”

 

 “And who will take command of my people?”

 

 “You will.”

 

 “Not Fenris?” she replied, doubtful, images of his permanently furious captain flashing through her mind.

 

 “He trains _warriors_ , my love. He will not take them from you.”

 

 Halla blinked, stunned. “ _What_ did you call me…?”

 

 He couldn’t answer her. Now that there was conscious thought behind it, the words wouldn’t come. She saw this and she only laughed. Laughed, and pushed him away, forcing him backward and following him until his legs hit the bed frame. Halla ran her fingers through the ends of his hair and pulled him down to her by it.

 

 “I’ll get it out of you.” she whispered.

 

 His lips parted just slightly and she thought she saw him test the sharpness of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, unthinking.

 

 “We’ll see.”

 

 He let her weight push him back onto her bed and their hands immediately began to pull at the other’s clothes.

 

 “When we finish the next task on our list?” he said, his hands holding her wrists above her head.

 

 “The judge’s house?” she replied breathlessly.

 

 He nodded, leaned close. She felt his smile against her throat. “In their bed.”

 

 Halla laughed, delighted at the very thought of it. _Perfect_ , she thought, _Perfect, the whole idea, such a disrespectful act but done with such — with such —_

 

 Her eyes closed, her thoughts turned blank.

 

* * *

 

**Arlathan — Linise Estate**

 

 Her laughter rang out across the cavernous ballroom as his agents and hers clawed everything they could carry into sacks.

 

 “It’s not as if we can sell it reliably,” he’d said with an exasperated shake of his head.

 

 “No… but it’s not doing any good sitting here either, is it?” Halla replied, beckoning him to follow her as she moved through the house. Once or twice she swung her staff into a mirror or a china ornament for the sake of it, and considering the items’ owners, he _really_ didn’t begrudge her the spirited destruction of property. Her clan had lost children to this house’s masters.

 

 While he examined and threw aside endless fakes of original artworks in the corridors, Halla found her way into the lady’s dressing room; when he found her in the bedroom, she was truly the picture of hideous, hoarded wealth. She carelessly tossed jewellery and clothes that cost more than her family’s combined service had earned, revelling in the tastelessness of it until he finally put a hand on her hip and caused her to spin around to face him.

 

 “ _Disgusting_ , isn’t it?” she sneered, pulling a silk glove off with her teeth.

 

 “Truly.” he sighed. The dress she wore was white silk, paper thin and delicate; it should have been beautiful on her, but with her sparkling, victorious eyes, her tangled hair and her bruised cheek from a days-old injury, she outshone it by far. The pearl strands around her neck were dull compared to the moonlight colour of her hair. He wondered what he must look like next to her, all dark cotton, his hair sensibly out of the way for the sake of practicality. Neither of them felt like _themselves_ . As if she’d read his mind, Halla pulled her fingers through his hair to free it, and as she leaned up to kiss him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and used his other hand to rip the strap clean off her dress. She laughed and pushed him away, not to _dissuade_ him, exactly —

 She backed off, taking a few steps toward a bed that must have dwarfed its ancient, miserable owners. He watched her, watched her hands disappear behind her back, her body arching forward as she tore the lacing out of the back of the dress and dropped the whole thing to the floor. With one hand, she swept off a gold-plated tiara and with the other, she beckoned him closer.

 Pressed into the silk sheets, she shivered as he hooked her leg around his and let out a whine as he pushed his thigh between her legs. He pulled her hips against his, cold leather against her skin, watching her eyes close and her head fall back against a pillow. Every time her hands reached for him, he kissed her, deep and hard enough to make her fight for breath when he stopped, but soon it didn’t seem like enough, her pulse was visible at her throat, but she was still relaxed, her gasps soft, and he wanted her _tense_ and _pleading_ —

 He pulled her stolen necklace away from her, scattering pearls across the floor as one of the strands snapped. Still holding her hips, grinding her against him, he ran the remaining, intact strand over his tongue — then thought better, let it gently fall across her face and kissed her over it, the cold beads caught in their mouths until he pulled them away and slipped his hand between her legs, between himself and her. Her arms clung to him, her fingers marking his shoulders; her soft whines into his kisses grew sharply to an audible moan as he dragged the pearl strand upward, breaking their kiss to marvel at _beautiful_ she sounded.

 

 “ _Stop it_ ,” she whispered, laughing, “ _Stop_ **_teasing_ ** _me, please—_ ”

 

 He laughed as well, pleased with her directness, but not surprised, not by now. Catching her breath some, she followed him as he sat up over her, helped him pull his clothes off. The only thing she didn’t let him take off was the necklace — the bone fragment that always hung around his neck. She pulled him down to her with it and twisted her hand into his hair as she felt him push her legs apart. This part was always rushed, clumsy, and she _liked_ it that way.

  _I want you to want me so bad you_ **_can’t_ ** _wait_ , she’d said. He’d laughed, a little shyly, and told her that was _never_ going to be difficult.

 

 “ _Don’t hold back,_ ” she whispered into his lips. “ _I mean it, d… don’t slow down for me, I_ **_want_ ** _it—_ ”

 

 Her words were cut off, her voice rising to a sharp cry instead that dispersed into gasping breaths that nearly mirrored his as she clawed at his shoulders.

 

  _Harder_ , she whispered, _Come on, you can do it, I know you like it—_

  _Mae— you’ll hurt, I—_

 _Then hurt me. I_ **_like_ ** _it—_

 

 She struggled to speak, struggling to maintain a line of thought. She let her hands fall over her head and he held them there easily with one of his own.

 

  _If there’s… if you…_

 

 She heard a breathless laugh. _If? What?_

 

  _If you want me… any other way… do it now, cos… cos I… can’t…_

 

 He answered in whispers, broken, between kisses. _You want this to stop? So I can move you?_

 

  _No! No, I don’t, I…_

 

 She frowned and complained as he broke away from her and made her sit straighter. For a moment, she couldn’t. Then she laughed at herself and climbed over him, pushing him into her pillow with a deep kiss.

 

 _I love you_ , she whispered _, I love you, I think I always loved you—_

 

 Too stunned to speak, he accepted her kisses and held her close by her waist, thoughts in tatters. She wasn’t expecting a response, he realised, she was just — she just _wanted_ to say it—

 

 He pushed her upright again and made her shift her leg back over him to let him out from under her. Dazed, she shook her head and swept her hair back off her face. From behind her, he ran his fingers through it for a couple of inches and grabbed hold of it. She fell still, breath almost held as she felt his hand on her hip.

 

  _You wouldn’t_ , she said, biting her lip, a sudden wave of comfortable uncertainty coming over her as she understood.

 

 He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, holding her head back by her hair. His own fell over her shoulder and she reached up to touch it, trying to turn enough to see him—

 

  _Wouldn’t I?_ he laughed into her neck.

 

  _No, you wouldn’t, you would dare make me…_

 

 He forced her head forward, further than she could accommodate without falling onto her hands for support, and as she did, he pulled her hips up to meet his.

 

  _You… wouldn’t… dare make me… suffer the indignity…_

 

 Once more, her words became moans, her hair falling over her face.

 

  _Didn’t you say you liked this? Didn’t you say it’s a favourite?_

 

 She laughed and the sound echoed off the walls as she dispensed with her act and pushed back into him, her hands braced against the bed frame.

 

  _I did, I did say that, I… I…_

 

 At some point she lost her strength and sank into the pillow, her fingers scratching at the sheets. Her knees slipped on the silk and she heard him laugh at her. She might have protested, but he took pity on her. With a hand at the front of her hips to support her, he let her shift down until she lay almost flat against the sheets. The change of angle drew a sharp gasp from her and she reached back over her shoulder until he leaned closer.

 

  _I… like this, it’s… it’s like… but I love this, I love you this close, it’s…_

 

 Her body was tensing as she spoke, her fingers curling into fists around a handful of silk and a handful of his hair. Her whispers became desperate, breathy whines, then louder, until she could barely exhale without coming out as a moan.

 

  _Fen — I — that — please, don’t — don’t stop, don’t st— that’s it, that’s it, fuck me through it, please, I —_

 

_Don’t I always?_

 

 She came hard, even for her, and when his thoughts cleared he realised he’d bitten her shoulder almost hard enough to draw blood. Panting, neither of them moved immediately. When he did, she made a displeased sound and took her time in getting her breath back properly.

 When she looked up, he was staring at the canopy over the bed.

 

 “... did you mean that?”

 

 She blinked. Words hadn’t come back to her yet. Pulling herself up, she shifted closer and lay down at his side, watching him. He was still breathing a little too fast, his hair was tangled where she’d grabbed it a damp where it had stuck to him. Suddenly, she realised what he meant.

 

 “Yeah. It’s true! That’s not… bad. _I love you_ . And I’m not just saying that because of what you just _did_ to me, either. You don’t have to say it b—”

 

 He laughed, his expression clearing as he shook his head and rolled into his side to face her. Lifting her chin with his fingers, he kissed her with more force than she’d have expected from him, given his state.

 

 “ _Ar lath ma_ ,” he said quietly, sounding each syllable out as if she might not hear him otherwise.

 

 “... _really?_ ” she breathed, wide eyed and entranced.

 

 He nodded, smiling at his own momentary shyness. “Yes. _Yes_ …”

 

  _Only I could fall hopelessly in love in the middle of a war._

 

 “I really meant it,” she said, “I feel like I… was just waiting for you.”

 

 “ _My heart,_ ” he sighed softly against her forehead.

 

 She smiled. “ _My home_.”

 

 She paused and he toyed with a strand of her hair as she thought, a smile at her cleverness still playing about his lips.

 

 “Is this what fate feels like?”

 

 Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he laughed. Not _unkindly_ . It was just such a uniquely _her_ thing to say.

 

 “I hope so.”

 


End file.
